The Ashes of Hope
by Silverrun
Summary: A free continuation of Fenris' story after he left the Champion's side. Though his eyes, we learn of a mystery, a dark secret that is emerging from hidden places in the north and will bring him and others to the furthest reaches of Thedas - and despair itself. This mystery is carried by a young woman so haunted she reminds him of his own past.
1. Chapter 1

She was standing in front of him, her crystalline presence as sharp and beautiful as it always was. Yet there was a harshness imbuing the air with chilling anticipation.

„I'm sorry, Fenris."

The mage was towering behind her, his eyes blazing lyrium blue.

„It is something I have chosen."

Her staff shriveled in her hands and fell to shreds of tattered black rags that blew away.

„It is the only path before me."

The figure behind her started to swell and grow, its skin ripping with a sickly grey mass of unnatural flesh. He wanted to move, to drag her away, to save her – but couldn't move a finger. He wanted to shout, growl, scream, roar – but he had no voice.

The mage turned into a gigantic abomination that seemed to fill the entire world, slowly climbing up her perfect body, enveloping her, consuming her, until all that was left was her face.

There were tears running down her cheeks, as the deathly material grew into them and turned her eyes red.

She screamed.

* * *

He screamed.

He sat up, the dream shattering around him left him sobbing without tears. It took him several minutes to get his breathing under control.

He stood up.

The small room with a worn bedroll and a pitcher of water. His sword. Nothing else.

He drank deeply and then walked to the window.

First rays of morning kissed the moss-covered rocks and twisted dark trees. First chills of winter flew in wisps through the air. He felt hollow.

She was gone, and so was everybody else.

He stood alone in a huge, empty world, trying for months to hide away from it in a small inn on the road.

He never thought he'd be hiding from himself one day.

* * *

On the border between Orlais and Nevarra, between the Waking Sea and the Fields of Ghislain, winds the Imperial Highway from east to west like a forgotten Tevinter snake. Surrounding it are wild green forests, climbing up and down the slopes of rocky hills. The trees there are mostly ancient and gnarled and the creatures living underneath them are quiet – so quiet, that the land seems extremely at peace at day, and eerily dead at night.

Any sound is like a dagger brought slamming into your temple.

* * *

She ran. No thoughts. No turns. Blood raging. Breath hissing.

There was a void inside her head, and it had her searching, searching for any clue. But there was nothing except for one flaring certainty.

She was hunted.

Hours have gone by and although the speed slowed down to nearly a crawl, she was still running, her stumbling footfalls scarring the forest floor.

Through the almost impenetrable darkness a pair of predatory eyes followed several miles behind.


	2. Chapter 2

It was close to morning, but still pitch dark outside. The wayside inn calmed down, most of the guests – traveling merchants or patrols – drunk and more or less asleep. A thick mist of smoke twisted into ominous shapes in the dark corners at the ceiling.

The door opened very suddenly and a waft of chilly breeze boiled the patterns of smoke. A lean female figure, dressed in what once may have been a man's velvet finery, dark hair chopped short – clearly with a dagger. Visibly exhausted, a haunted look in her gray eyes. She stumbled several times on her way to the bar, leaned onto it heavily for a moment, but soon her anxious gaze lifted and fixed on the innkeeper.

„I need a sell sword, my good man. Know of any here?"

The old barkeep pointed his chin to one of the darker corners.

„Tha' one. S'upposed to be quite deadly, though 've ne'er seen 'im do anythin' but drink."

She followed his gaze with an almost longing hope.

* * *

He has been sitting there for what seemed like an eternity, his dream twisting over and over in his head like a poisonous reptile. He had been turning a cup of wine – which never seemed to go empty – in his fingers, until it fell to the ground a few hours ago. Since then, he has been drinking from the bottle and had no idea how much wine he already tasted.

After a certain point it all tastes the same.

„Serah?"

Somewhat slowly he lifted his gaze.

For a moment he thought he'd met this woman before. Her haunted gray eyes; her tense, alert face; her hair ragged and her clear pale skin and high cheekbones smeared with dust from the road.

He didn't speak.

„I heard you are a mercenary. A good one. I can pay."

For a moment he considered the level of his drunkenness, but he realized he hadn't been able to get properly drunk since...

He felt a low growl starting in his throat.

„Who am I to kill?" he heard his voice rasp quietly.

Her gaze lingered on his lips for a moment, before she said in a somewhat resigned voice:

„Anyone that comes near me when I sleep."

She pulled several gold coins from her pouch and stretched out her hand to him.

He took them from her and held her gaze, unintentionally.

This was unexpected. Interesting. It took his mind off Hawke and all the rest of the horrible mage business.

He stood up and led the way.

* * *

The elf offered her his room and his blanket, and as it was the last room on the top floor with a window facing the forests, she thought it a good strategic point.

She was nervous, but she needed sleep. Desperately. She's been running for days, dozing off in mossy valleys before awakening with a terror and running off again. She always felt someone's eyes on her and couldn't stop.

But she still was nervous. She slumped on the blanket and turned her eyes to him.

He seemed sober enough, sitting right next to the door in the shadowy corner. His long sword lightly rested against his knee. He was watching her.

„How many?" he asked.

She shook her head.

„I don't know. I only know I'm hunted. If you can't..." She paused. „If there are too many, just... wake me first. I won't hold a grudge, feel free to run, but I want to run too."

He looked at her, and for a second she thought she saw pain and a smile, too, curve his elegant elven lips.

„If I run, you'll be slung over my shoulder. I do my jobs properly."

She attempted a smile, but failed miserably and fell asleep almost instantly.

* * *

Fenris watched her exhausted face unclench and she looked almost beautiful, although dusty and pale. He pondered what she could be running from. She didn't look like a criminal, and the way she handed him the gold was almost careless. As if it didn't belong to her. Of course, after a few days without sleep, gold is irrelevant. He knew that far too well. Maybe she was a noble from a family fallen from grace. Or...

There was a quiet sound from the corridor, like the friction of a foot on a wooden floor when a figure turns abruptly.

He closed his eyes to feel the vibrations and see without seeing.

His fingers closed firmly on the hilt of his sword.

He wasn't afraid and he wasn't nervous – the things he'd already seen couldn't be outmatched by common assassins. The only though on his mind was that the exhausted young woman at his feet needed to rest.

The door was flung open without a sound.


	3. Chapter 3

He knew they probably weren't expecting him in the room, so he took a chance and drew his dagger simultaneously with the opening door, slicing the first man's thigh and severing the main artery. His other hand brought his sword with one fluent motion into the second man's heart.

It was over in a heartbeat and nobody made a sound – just the hiss of his blade and thumps of bodies falling to the ground.

For a fraction of a second he just listened, and then shut and bolted the door very, very fast.

Then he turned.

She was on her feet in an instant, not yet quite awake but ready to move.

„Run," he breathed in a low voice. She instinctively made for the window, but out of nowhere a shadow blocked her path.

Fenris moved fast. His left hand pushed her out of the way, his right, dropping the sword, sliced downward into the shadow's neck and collarbone and heart with a silvery flare, killing him instantly.

A wave of heat surged through the patterns in his flesh as his palm connected with her skin through a rip in the clothing on her shoulder, and it almost made him dizzy – and definitely alarmed him – and he had to struggle to stay focused. There will be time to question that afterward.

He kicked the slightly translucent body out the window and grabbed his sword again.

„Go!" he growled louder and thrust the hilt of his still bloody dagger into her hand.

He went to face the door just as it crashed open.

She clutched the dagger and jumped, landing on her feet on the soft mossy slope. The dead body with a crushed ribcage lay motionless right next to her.

Her eyes darted left and right before she made for the cover of trees and rocks.

It felt like a bad dream and she thought that maybe she was in fact still asleep.

* * *

Only two more came in through the door, not at all prepared for a fighter of Fenris' skill. But he was still glad for choosing his lighter blade – his greatsword would have been next to useless in a confined space like this.

He made sure the corridor was empty before returning to the room and searching the bodies.

They weren't Crows, he was almost certain. They almost looked like aristocrats, clean and clad each and every one of them in light black armor that covered their entire body from the neck down. Their features half elven, proud, pale.

None of them carried anything but weapons.

He took his pack and his swords and rather hastily made his way downstairs.

The common room looked untouched by the events on the upper floor. Same drunks asleep, same smoke, same smell.

He paid the innkeeper and left without a word.

* * *

She crawled out from the darkness once everything went quiet and kneeled next to the body beneath the window. It has resumed the opacity of a common human body by now, but still seemed... colder. Airier.

There was a leather pouch tied tightly to its leg, and she cut it loose.

There was nothing in it except fine silvery-blue dust and a folded piece of soft leather with rows of symbols pressed into it with black dye. She pondered them for a moment, but they seemed to dance in front of her eyes and she felt a weariness enfolding her; the weariness of persistent confusion and fear and ignorance and emptiness...

She looked up sharply as she felt someone's gaze upon her.

It did feel different, though.

The silver-haired elf was standing at the corner of the inn, a greatsword on his back, a light blade in his hand, watching her intently.


	4. Chapter 4

He had wanted to leave right away. He didn't like questions asked about him – and when he killed, someone always asked questions.

He also didn't expect to run into her. He thought she'd be miles from here by now.

„They all dead?" she whispered. Her wide gray eyes radiated almost terror.

„Yes," he answered in a low voice. He wondered how old she could be. Seventeen? Eighteen? Crouched and freshly frightened she looked much younger than before.

„Thank you." Whisper again.

A trace of a frown crossed his brow.

„You paid me."

„I know," she spoke almost hastily, and a little louder now, „but..." She looked on the verge of tears, but quickly pulled herself together. „I didn't expect them to actually come. I thought maybe I was wrong."

He understood. It surprised him. He also remembered the wave of heat that traveled though the lines of magic engraved in him.

She was interesting.

She stood up, looked at the dagger in her hand and handed it back to him.

„I suppose I should go. There may be more..."

He didn't reach for his weapon, searching for an excuse to learn more.

„You still have not slept."

Her eyelids fluttered at the thought of sleep.

„I can't. I have to run."

Damn her fear.

„You cannot run forever. Do you still have gold to pay?"

She stared at him silently and nodded.

„Then let us go. There are places to hide in the forest, and I can guard you until you have rested."

She didn't object. When he started for the trees, she followed, a bloody dagger still in her hand.

The eastern sky began to grow just a little pale as they turned their backs.

* * *

She woke into the strange silence of these forests, just wind hissing through the branches. She remembered this place, where ho unrolled his blanket for her in a hollowed out rock by a dried out riverbed. She felt much better, well rested and ravenous.

She didn't move at first, just looked.

The elf was leaning against a tree, the afternoon sun causing his silver hair to sparkle. He was gazing off into the forest – listening, watching something or just lost in thought, she couldn't tell. There were strange markings on his tan skin, somewhere between pale blue and silver. It suddenly reminded her of the color of the dust in the assassin's pouch.

She sat up, slowly, still watching him.

He turned his head and their eyes met.

„Good morning." His voice was like thunder very far away. She liked it.

It made her smile.

„Good morning," she answered.

He didn't quite return the smile, but his mouth seemed to curve up at one corner, before he came to sit beside her and reached into his pack.

„When was the last time you ate?"

„Unnecessarily long ago," was her honest answer.

This time he smiled fully, however briefly, and pulled out bread and cheese.

„There. Eat."

She thanked him and ate in silence for a while. His gaze glided around, apparently checking for danger, but also rested on her face in a nervous way from time to time.

It made her nervous too.

„What is it?" she asked finally and stopped eating.

He frowned and it was a while before he said: „Forgive me, but may I try something?"

She stiffened.

„What?"

He looked almost embarrassed.

„May I touch your hand?"

She laughed. It was sweet and if he weren't so tense, he would have enjoyed it.

„Sure." She held out her hand for him to take.

He pulled off one glove and, carefully, he lightly touched the back of his hand to hers.

There it was again. Almost instantly the patterns in his flesh erupted with searing white light; adrenalin and strength flowed into his veins. It was exhilarating, as if...

… as if he were being pumped full of magic.


	5. Chapter 5

She jerked her hand away, scared.

„I thought I dreamt it..." she whispered. „Did you... did you really... put your hand _into_ that killer?"

Oddly enough, she didn't seem to be repelled, or frightened of _him_.

„Yes. But that is not..." He paused. How can he explain this...? „When I touch someone like that, **I** initiate the magic. **I** chose whether I wish to move through his flesh. I am in control. When I touch you, it's something else that awakens the magic."

He moved a little bit further and studied her suspiciously.

„Who are you? Are you a mage? You're not telling me much."

Her eyes went wide.

„I... I don't think so. I mean... I don't know. I don't remember much." She was watching him with growing frustration. „No! I'm not a mage, I would have to know if I were a mage, wouldn't I...?" she stammered and finally stopped talking. She looked genuinely confused. She hid her face in her hands and leaned against the rock. She was trembling.

Which reminded him of another thing.

„You... don't remember?" He almost couldn't believe this.

Slowly, she shook her head.

His voice grew softer.

„What _do _you remember?"

Her eyes fixed on him.

„I remember waking up on dry hot ground. Bright sun. I remember counting my coins..." she closed her eyes, „one, two... three... four..." Her eyes opened again, terrified. „I remember knowing I will be hunted. And then I ran. There were fields, and a big river, and a great bridge, but I had to swim..."

She hung her head again, clearly exhausted at the mere thought of it.

„Then the forest. You. Them."

Their eyes locked. She shook her head.

„Nothing more."

So she came from the north. And her accent... He felt a touch of fear. It never left him, although everything that tied him to those lands was dead.

„Tell me, do you understand me if I say this?" He leaned closer, as if afraid someone might hear him. „Ei vento nai mordoi deid."

She watched his lips.

„You're... you're saying you won't hurt me."

Fenris stood up and glared at the forest, the sky, the gigantic mess of cruelty and magic the world seemed to be.

„Let's go," he told her in a suspiciously peaceful voice, „More will come, and you'll need to be ready."

* * *

Most likely a magister's plaything, same as he used to be.

She didn't look like a slave, though – come to think of it, she didn't look to be from Tevinter at all. He would have guessed Orlais, if anything. But if she understood Arcanum, she had to have been living in Tevinter for some time. Or know the language in some other way on a subconscious level...

He looked at her as she was walking beside him.

He stood a head taller than her, but then he was tall for an elf. She walked in a weird way, sometimes jerking her body or arms like she forgot she had them for a moment. Her eyes seemed distracted, confused and when she looked at him, they seemed completely empty.

The clothes she wore were starting to fall apart in places and with a bit of discomfort he said:

„You will need new clothes."

She looked startled for a moment, but then looked at the ragged cloth and the tears in it and laughed.

„You're probably right. But where do we get any – here?"

She gestured around them at the gnarled old trees and hills and moss covered rocks.

„Maybe I could try stitching moss together and wear a crown of leaves."

Fenris was amused. She may not remember much, but she certainly had a sense of humor lodged firmly somewhere inside her head.

„No need, queen of the forest. There is a small town several hours from here – right on the border and off the highway, so nobody asks too many questions."

He looked at her, the trace of a smile still lingering on his lips.

„How much gold do you have, princess?"

She winced when he called her that, but it seemed she almost didn't notice.

She gave him an impish smile and her eyes sparkled.

„Oh, lots. Does the mercenary need a little advance on his pay?"

He chuckled.

„It never hurts to get an advance, but I was thinking about some equipment for you. If you wish to outrun these... hunters, you will need armor, weapons and some provisions. These are not peaceful times and travel is dangerous even without being hunted."

„I don't even know how to use a weapon."

„I can teach you. It does not take long to learn the basics."

„Really?" her eyes went wide, „will I be able to fight like you?"

He laughed.

„Someday, maybe, but for the time being I was thinking more along the lines of get-behind-them-and-stab-them-in-the-back." His voice softened. „I had a friend from Rivain once who was really good at that. You would have liked her. I think," he laughed quietly.

„Where is she now?"

„I do not know. Somewhere at sea, most likely."

„Is she a sailor?"

„No," he answered, laughter in his eyes, „She's a pirate."


	6. Chapter 6

_I received my first comment today! Please, do write a few lines if you find the time and have some thoughts on the story. I'm glad it found its readers._

_There was a bit of a delay, I apologize for that, it's exam time here ;) I promise it will never take longer than three days for a new chapter to appear - unless properly excused ;)_

* * *

It was a proper smuggler's village. Everybody talked in riddles, but everybody understood each other perfectly; you could buy or sell almost anything at every corner; and there was a good inn at the end of the main square.

Fenris led his charge through the people and had to smile a little bit. This was one of the very few places where a lyrium-tattooed elf with a greatsword on his back and a dirty, aristocratic looking girl in torn clothes didn't get any more attention than the beggar at the street corner.

She looked a little paranoid, always looking over her shoulder with those big scared eyes – at the rough, armed men with dirty faces, some riding tough looking mountain horses, some dragging crates of cargo onto carts, some haggling with the black market dealers.

„Calm down," he told her, slightly amused, „Here, they know better than to touch someone who travels with me."

She attempted a smile, but her behavior didn't change.

As they entered the tavern, the barkeep greeted him with a nod.

„Good day to you both. What can I do for you?"

„A bath for the lady and a room." He turned to her. „You will clean up and I will get you some clothes." Her eyes widened - clearly at the thought of being left alone - but she didn't object.

A barmaid led them down the corridor.

He stopped at the door to a room filled with the smell of heated water and herbs. He handed her his dagger, now clean and freshly sharpened.

„They will look after you. I will not be long."

She grasped the weapon tightly as the maid took her by her arm.

„Com, darling, a bath will do you good," she said with a faint Orlesian accent.

A pair of gray eyes fixed on him before the door closed.

He stood there for a moment.

There was unquestioning trust in them. Trust that he will come back and help her, because there is something terrible waiting in her future.

It almost worried him how easily she believed in him.

With a determined look, he set out to find her some equipment.

* * *

It was easy getting some clothes, boots and camping necessities for her, he also bought a quality Antivan dagger for her to carry. It was harder to find a woman's armor, though, and he realized they'll have to have it made for her. It shouldn't take a skilled – and, of course, well paid – craftsman more than a day to custom-make good leather armor.

As he was walking back through the streets, it occurred to him that they haven't established where they were going. He assumed she would like to go away from the north and the beginning of it all, but maybe... No, that would be up to her.

But they may need horses.

He smiled. He had enough gold of his own to buy himself – and her – a little present.

Provided the animals for sale in this town will qualify for gifts.

They'll need to be good enough to – possibly – carry them through Orlais without causing every noble they passed to notice and ridicule them. As well as not wanting to get too much attention, he didn't like ridicule. It always made him angry. And he was dangerous when angry. To everybody.

Also, Orlais was a good place to have fast horses. There was always politics brewing in some poisonous pot or another. There were hired killers everywhere. And the bards. Such a sneaky, deadly precise profession. They could get anywhere, do their sneaky business and slink out through keyholes before somebody had the chance to notice...

There was one second when something cold washed over his brain very calmly, leaving him thoughtless.

He started running. His heart began beating twice as fast as adrenalin began to light the fuses inside him.

Only one thought materialized in his head and stayed there, as he ran through the streets.

He left a hunted magical girl alone in a room with a suspiciously beautiful Orlesian woman and enough herbs to kill a herd of cattle.


	7. Chapter 7

The hot water was amazing. She felt every muscle in her body relax, and that was a relief after days of exertion and uncontrollable spasms. It was such a great feeling she started to tremble.

She looked at the maid, who was walking around heating more water, laying out clothes and mixing herbs in a mortar. The maid smiled at her. Again.

She did it three times before, and maybe it was her paranoia acting out, but the smile seemed just a tiny bit forced.

The trembling didn't stop. The dim light of the chamber seemed dimmer every second and she hoped it was just the steam, but her sight was getting blurry.

She jerked herself from the water and grabbed the dagger.

It wasn't the steam.

She felt a rush of adrenalin in her fighting something else, something foreign coursing through her veins. She felt an unimaginably bright light cover the dimness and the shapes and colors. She felt the water boil around her.

She heard the woman curse quietly.

Then... a blackness.

Silence.

* * *

The innkeeper jumped, startled, when Fenris stormed in through the door. He didn't look left or right and headed straight towards the cursed door.

It stood just a few inches ajar.

He drew his sword and kicked it open.

The room was empty, a strong smell of wolf's bane in the air.

Maker, did they boil her? The water was splashed everywhere, dried pieces of the fateful plant scattered all over the floor. Toxic steam was rolling around like storm clouds.

This was a potent poison, but there was a chance – a small chance – that the bard just soaked her in it, leaving her paralyzed and poisoned, but alive.

She was most likely taken captive – the strongest argument being the simple fact that she wasn't there.

He picked up his dagger from a corner and grabbed what was left of her belongings. It was just two heavy coin purses and a strange, soft leather pouch. As soon as he touched it, his fingers began to tingle. He looked inside.

Lyrium dust? Where did she get this?

She was full of surprises. Not only was she wanted in Tevinter, it seemed someone in Orlais wanted his hands on her, too.

Alive.

That jerked him back into the immediate situation. The situation that required him to act fast.

Really fast.

* * *

The silence and blackness transformed into pain. It was everywhere, enveloping her. Her new world.

She would scream if she could, but her mouth and her throat didn't move at her command. Everything was a blur of jerky movement. She thought she heard quiet voices, and the thunder of hooves, but mostly, she wanted to scream.

She faded in and out of consciousness, but gradually, a heat started spreading out from her heart, and made her fall asleep again.

Permanently.

* * *

It was nigh on midnight, and he was exhausted, having gone without sleep for more than a full night and day. His horse, luckily, was a fierce young stallion and although it was hard to control, it liked to run. Very much. Fenris basically just pointed it in the right direction and let it, focusing on staying in the saddle and scanning the surroundings and the road before him.

It was suspiciously empty.

A friend merchant pointed him in the direction he saw several riders leave in a hurry about half an hour before him. They carried a human sized pack, he said.

Half an hour.

They had to stop soon.

At least he hoped they would.

He needed rest.

The stallion went through a twist in the road and had to come to a sharp halt.

There were five riders blocking the way. A sixth stood a little way behind them, a human sized pack thrown over the saddle. He didn't recognized any of them – what he did recognize was the sign on their armor, the fiery eye.

He used to respect the Chantry. But during the year he was separated from his former companions and heard the news of the unrest spreading throughout the land, he developed contempt for the Templars as well as the Seekers for their incompetence to deal with the mage revolts.

Five Seekers blocking the road did nothing to intimidate him.

They only inflamed his curiosity more.

They eyed him, swords drawn, as he approached slowly – an impressive feat considering the fidgety horse he was riding.

„Stop, elf," spoke the sixth as he came within a horse's length from the five, „You should turn back and leave us to do our duty. This is the Maker's work."

He snorted.

„Indeed. Hiring a bard to poison and abduct a defenseless girl. Noble of you, the Seekers of Truth. A true holy quest."

„It is no business of yours, elf. You are no one to question what we do. You have no ties to the girl. You should leave."

He speared her with his green eyes, dangerously aflame.

It seemed like a long while, but then he, finally, hung his head humbly.

„You are right, of course. I am no one to meddle in the holy affairs of the Chantry. And I have no ties to the girl."

The Seekers lowered their weapons and loosened the grip on the reins.

* * *

A sudden blast of purplish blue light erupted with a thunderous sound from the elf's lean figure. It hit the Seekers and it hit their horses, making the little group a mess of panicked horses and falling bodies. Fenris' own horse reared up and there was an evil grin on the elf's lips.

„Except that she paid me to protect her," growled his voice through the chaos. He drew his sword and kicked his horse towards the spot where the bound human form landed on the ground. Most of the horses stampeded off into the forest, and the Seekers lay dazed, some wounded by the storm of hooves that tore the ground.

He dismounted and kneeled beside the human form wrapped in cloth.

He sensed something was wrong before he even touched it.

It was a sack stuffed with hay and wrapped in a cloak.


	8. Chapter 8

He roared.

There was anger, and grief, and a complete lack of control over what was to happen.

The Seekers were just beginning to crawl to their feet, but not one of them made it. He sliced through them without mercy, whirling through the rain of blood.

He only stopped at the last one, the one who spoke to him before.

He pressed his foot against his throat.

„Where is the girl? Where is she taking her?" he hissed through his teeth.

The Seeker looked into his face, a mixture of fear and disgust, and pressed his lips together.

That was just what the elf needed. His fingers glowed as he slowly pushed them into his chest, inching his way deeper and deeper toward the heart.

The howl of pain rose up and soared through the trees, resonating among rocks and hills.

It was a while before it stopped.

Fenris leaned down and pressed one finger, now only dimly flickering, against his forehead.

„Your brain could be next," he sneered.

„I don't know... we... we were decoys... the Right Hand of the Divine... wants her... I don't know! I don't know where!" The pitch of his voice rose in panic.

He glared into his eyes before he calmly slit his throat.

* * *

He needed Varric. He needed information before it was too late.

That meant going back to Kirkwall. The dwarf told them that's were he'll be if they needed him. Of course they all doubted it was safe, but he waved them off, stating in good humor that he can take care of himself.

Fenris sure hoped he did, otherwise the search for the bard and the Seeker would prove a much more difficult task.

It meant a harsh three-day ride along the coast.

_Outsmarted by a bard._

Well... there are worse things in the world.

He mounted the stallion and turned it back on the road. At least the boiling anger inside him gave him strength to ride for several more hours.

He only hoped he had three days before...

He clenched his teeth and let his rage live through the wild rush of his horse.

* * *

By dawn he was back at the inn. He tied his horse at the front door and walked in.

The innkeeper looked up nervously as Fenris strode towards him.

„You knew one of your maids was an Orlesian spy?" asked the elf in a tired voice.

He shook his head. „I'm very sorry for what happened, I heard she took the girl..."

Fenris frowned. „Who told you?"

„Ghor, the red haired merchant, stopped by. Said you followed the riders. But he says that woman was seen leaving after you did, headed east. She had someone with her, but it may have been just a body."

He looked very sad and apologetic.

„Again, I'm really sorry. I don't know half the maids, my ol' woman hires them, I just assumed..."

Fenris waved his excuses off.

„I need some of your illegal potions, something to keep me going without sleep for another day at least."

The man reached into the dark shelves and handed him a small stained flask.

„This should do it. It's an Antivan recipe, they call it 'the watcher' – assassins drink it when they have to wait for their victims for a long time in dangerous places and stay alert."

Fenris took the flask, dropped a sovereign on the bar and turned to leave.

„Good luck, elf!" called the innkeeper sincerely through the empty tavern.

The door clicked shut and the sound of hooves galloping eastward echoed through the streets for a long while, before the memory died away.


	9. Chapter 9

The young village healer looked at the frustrated woman in front of him with understanding.

„Calm down, my dear. Tell me what happened, I'm sure we can help your sister."

„Oh thank you, thank you, I don't know what to do!" The woman was desperate, almost crying, and her sad face so beautiful – the healer found himself wanting to comfort her in ways he shouldn't be wanting to. „I found her by a creek – she went to the forest to bathe – and she isn't moving, it has been almost a day. It's like she's asleep, but I can't wake her. There were strange flowers growing beside the creek, I think it was..."

„Wolf's bane," a dangerously quiet voice finished the sentence for her.

There was a thud as an armed fist knocked the woman unconscious.

„I apologize for the interruption." Fenris threw the bard over his shoulder. He looked at the shocked healer. „Do not look at me like that, she is a liar and a spy. She poisoned the girl herself." His green eyes were dangerously aglow. „How do you treat it?"

„Eh... w-wolf's bane? J-just flush i-it out..."

„She did not drink it. She was paralyzed."

„Well... sh-she should w-w-wake on her o-own..."

„Yes," the elf said, thoughtfully, „but she hasn't."

He left without another word, the beautiful woman dangling limp from his shoulder.

* * *

It wasn't hard to find the only horse good enough to carry an Orlesian. It stood in front of an abandoned shack at the outskirts of the village. He looked around. Most people were resting indoors, hiding from the midday glare. Nobody was watching.

He drew his light-sword and entered.

There she was, her face pale and unmoving like carved from ivory, lying in a corner, wrapped in a cloak.

Evidently she was to be delivered alive.

He threw the bard on the ground, bound her and searched.

A full coin-purse, six daggers (impressive, he thought) hidden all over her body, and a letter.

Yes, well... the girl will have to read that.

He turned his attention to her.

Her breathing was slow but regular, and except for the extreme whiteness of her skin, she really seemed to be just peacefully asleep.

Fenris kneeled down and gently lifted her up. He removed his gloves and pressed two fingers underneath her jaw, trying to find her pulse.

* * *

The blackness was filled with an invisible movement, a timeless potential.

She was aware of it, but she had no will, no intent and no purpose, so she merely lay in it.

It was relaxing.

It could go on for however long was needed.

It didn't.

There was a white flash of light and out of nowhere, she felt she had a body again, and eyes to open.

She opened them.

* * *

The white flash of light washed over the room. The heat poured into him, making him tremble with energy, and before he could locate the artery, she opened her eyes.

He jerked his hand away.

There it was again, the strange gray void of her eyes that made him doubt she was even human.

„It's you," stated her hoarse voice.

It took a while before he could speak.

„Who did you expect?"

She seemed to honestly think about it.

„I don't think I expected anybody." She tried to get up and he helped her. She held the cloak tight.

„Did you bring me any clothes?" she asked nervously.

He smiled.

„Yes, my lady," he mimicked a servant's voice, „And a weapon, too. I will get them." He handed her a bottle of water. „You should drink."

As he went to the door, he noticed her looking at the bound bard on the floor.

„Oh, yes, keep an eye on her, please. She was a _pain_ to catch."


	10. Chapter 10

Once the horses were hidden behind the shack, the girl dressed and fed and the bard gagged and bound again, just to be certain, he finally began to feel his strength failing. He needed to sleep. Badly.

He turned to her as they were sitting on a bench near the door (the only functional piece of furniture in the room).

„I will need you to guard me while I sleep."

She looked at him, amused, clearly thinking it was a joke.

„I mean it. I need to rest like everyone else. I don't fight well when exhausted."

„I don't believe that," she said sincerely.

He laughed.

„I hope it will not be necessary to prove it to you."

He unpacked his bedroll.

„If you feel like falling asleep, wake me. If you hear someone coming or the bard wakes up and looks like she is up to something, also wake me. If you are hungry, there is food in your pack."

He loosened the straps on his armor and stretched out on the floor, closing his eyes.

„If you eat everything in your pack, there is food in my pack. If you find you have eaten everything in there too, it is definitely time to wake me."

She grinned.

„Sleep well, my elven hero."

With a smile, he fell asleep.

* * *

All was well until dusk. She settled on the bench by the door, with her new Antivan dagger proudly laid ready on her knees. The bard didn't move – most likely because she couldn't – and the elf slept peacefully right next to the bench.

She entertained herself by watching him, his chest slowly rising and falling, his proud face relaxed and his silver hair - not much longer than her own but much better cut – falling around his ears.

She remembered how she cut her own hair with a knife on the shores of the big river before she dove in to swim across. She didn't remember why she cut it, but she knew she'd thrown away the knife because it burnt her hand.

As it went dark, she ate, then returned to her seat with dagger in hand.

A wind rose outside. She shifted nervously as the night was suddenly full of sounds and she couldn't possibly identify them all. She strained her senses, trying to distinguish between the sounds of dust being blown across the road, leaves being torn from the branches, loose planks of wood creaking in the roof, and...

… and something else.

Just as she was ready to scream in panic, the elf opened his eyes and sat up.

He took one look at her and said: „Time to leave."

Swiftly he stood up, adjusted his armor, gathered his things and picked up the bard.

She stood by the door, pack in one hand, dagger in the other.

„Why are we bringing her?"

He couldn't blame her for not liking the woman. He wasn't particularly fond of her either.

„I have some questions for her."

He started for the door.

„Wait!" she almost shouted. He froze in place. „What is it?"

„There's... I think there's something out there."

He looked her in the eyes, then outside into the darkness.

„What?"

„I don't know."

For a moment they stood there in silence, listening to the sounds outside and the wind blowing through the creaking roof.

Then, Fenris heard it. The sound he knew so well.

The faint hum of a deadly trapping spell being cast across the door.

„Get back," he hissed at her, „when I tell you, follow me."

He took a deep breath and hoisted the bard a little higher on his left shoulder. He stared through the door, but didn't draw his sword.

Suddenly, he turned on the spot, jumped and with a powerful crash knocked down the back wall.

„Come!" he shouted. They charged through the splintered wood.

The shack behind them exploded in lightening and shadows scattered across the field.

They ran to the horses, where he threw the bard over his saddle, lifted the girl onto the bard's horse, then mounted the stallion.

„Do you know how to ride a horse?" he shouted through the hiss of the lightening.

The shadows were dancing madly across her face, but he could swear she was laughing.

„No!" she shouted back.

Then, the terrified Orlesian chestnut bolted and all the elf could do was to follow it into the forest.


	11. Chapter 11

_Tomorrow, I'm leaving for three days to do LARP stuff in the woods, killing people with wooden swords and all that fun;) - I will try to upload one more chapter tomorrow morning (that is about 20 hours from now, since it's 1pm in Central Europe) and the next one afterwards will be sunday evening (roughly saturday night in the US, if I'm not mistaken)._

_So it should be just about 48 hours gap, in the end.  
_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

The raging wind howling through the trees became a thunderstorm, the lightening whipping the hills. A torrential rain cut into Fenris' cheeks as he tried to keep up with the terrified Orlesian horse. The girl stayed in the saddle despite of all the crazy gallop over rocks and thunder rolling all around – she even managed to keep holding the reins, although navigating the horse was out of question as her hands were gripping the front of her saddle as well.

After about half an hour, with the storm left rumbling far behind and only the rain beating down without a change, the horses left the forest and slowed down.

He heard the girl gasp.

They rode along a rocky slope which gradually turned into gravel and sand far to their right. Beyond that, only the seemingly infinite gray reaches of the Waking Sea, glittering in silver occasionally when reflecting distant lightening.

She was right, it was beautiful. In a very dark and ominous way, of course.

He reached out and took hold of her horse's reins. She looked at him, wet hair plastered to her head, breathing fast, and laughed an exhausted laugh.

„That was... amazing."

„Are you sure you do _not _know how to ride a horse?" he asked mockingly.

„I swear, my lord, I have no idea how to," she replied in tone.

He dismounted and led the horses slowly along the shore until they came to a shallow cave facing the sea – just big enough to stay out of the rain and light a fire.

He reached out a hand to her to help her down from the chestnut, but she didn't take it. Instead she watched the forest some hundred yards to the east from where they emerged from it.

„Does the forest seem different to you over there?" she asked slowly.

He followed her face and nodded.

„That is the Planasene. It begins here and stretches all the way to the Kirkwall delta."

She watched with some interest. The dark mass of the forest seemed to be darker there, bigger in volume, covered with mist, and it seemingly moved, boiled slowly like thick mud.

„I am not going in there without a fire mage at my side," added the elf with a note of finality in his voice. She turned to look at him.

„Why?"

„The trees come alive in there."

„Really?" her eyes opened wide and she was clearly holding back a plea to go there.

He laughed quietly, and not very happily.

„They are not friendly trees. They will kill anyone reckless enough to venture in there."

„Oh," she looked disappointed.

„Come," he held out his hand again, „We can talk once we are out of the rain."

* * *

She was half sitting, half lying beside the fire, watching with amusement the steam rising from her clothes.

„Isn't it dangerous to light a fire when you're being hunted?" she asked lazily.

„Yes," the elf looked amused as well, watching her, „But nobody will be able to track us in this weather, the rain will have washed away all the traces by now. The fire can be seen only from the sea, and we would see anyone trying to land here long before they could set foot on dry land."

„I see I'm in capable hands," she looked half asleep. „So tell me, where are we going next?"

He hesitated, not sure whether he should tell her everything, but then decided she doesn't know much as it is, and anything he will tell her might help extract something more from her memory.

„We will go to Kirkwall. I know a dwarf there. He is... very resourceful. He might have answers." He paused for a while, trying to formulate all his thoughts. „So far, it seems you are hunted by at least three factions. One are the assassins we encountered at the inn. Another is a mage or a group of mages that tried to capture you tonight. And the last one, quite surprisingly, are the Seekers of Truth, the elite force of the Chantry in all its... glory." The last word came out as a snarl.

She sat up, listening intently.

„We could try to wake up and question your friend here, but I doubt she will talk."

They both looked the bard. She looked back with tired eyes. She must have been quite bruised, hungry and parched. Neither of them felt sorry for her.

„We will give you a chance to speak, bard," the elf told her, „Keep it short and true. Do you know why the girl is wanted by the Seekers?"

Slowly, the bard shook her head.

„Can you tell us where and who you were to deliver her to?"

Again so very slowly, the bard nodded.

Fenris reached out and untied the strap of cloth over her mouth.

„Tell us then."

The woman coughed.

„I was to meet the head of the Seekers in Kirkwall."

In Kirkwall? What are the Seekers doing in Kirkwall...?

„Do you know why she is there?"

„No."

„How long have you been tracking this girl?"

„Since Ghislain. I followed the assassins."

„So you do not know where she came from?"

„From the north, I suppose."

Yes, well, he knew _that_ much.

„Do you know who the assassins were?"

She hesitated.

„I'm almost certain they came from Tevinter. My personal guess was that they were a magister's private killing squad, but I have no proof of that."

His personal guess as well. He watched the bard. She watched him.

„How did you wake her up?" she asked suddenly, „I have tried everything I know, and trust me, I know a lot about poison and waking people afterwards."

He met the girl's gaze, and saw that she was smiling, her eyes empty and gray and lost in thought.

„I touched her," he answered almost involuntarily.

„So it might be true," the bard whispered.

He looked at her sharply.

„What might be true?"

„I researched the target when the Seekers hired me. They only told me where she'll be and roughly what she'll look like, nothing else. But I caught bits of very unverified rumors that there was some kind of gigantic magic ritual planned to happen somewhere in the desert, in the Silents. I think that's where she came from."

She looked at him with eyes wide with fear.

„I don't know what magic _you_ wield, elf, but I would leave her and run if I were you. There's no knowing what she is, what might be in her..."

„Hey!" the girl shouted with indignation, „First of all, I'm right here! And second of all, what's wrong with magic?"

They both looked at her, the bard and the elf, with surprise, shock and a little bit of anger.

Neither of them said a word, though.

Fenris turned back to the bard.

„I will not leave her."

„Why not? How much is she paying you? You can always take it from her corpse. Or sell her to the Seekers, they pay well. You are a mercenary, no? Smell the profit!"

For a while, they were all silent – the bard watching the elf, the girl watching the elf, the elf staring into the night.

And then, surprising them both, he punched the bard in the face. Hard.

„I'm not _just_ a mercenary," came the voice like distant thunder and his eyes blazed.

He stood up, picked up the bard and walked off into the night.


	12. Chapter 12

_I humbly apologize for the delay, I had to sort through my ideas before writing on._

* * *

She woke to the sound of sea gulls crying above the rustling surf. It was a gray chilly dawn. The fire died down sometime in the night and she remembered falling asleep in the dark, cold and afraid, waiting for the elf to come back.

She turned her head.

He was lying next to her, pressed against the back wall of the small cave. His graceful elven features seemed sharp and hard that morning, there were droplets of blood dried on his neck and cheek, and she knew she will remember that sight forever – the silver haired elven warrior, sleeping next to her with blood stains on his hands, after he killed for her. Again. But this time not for survival, but purely for revenge.

She reached out and touched the silver hair just above his ear.

She couldn't resist.

* * *

He was jerked from sleep by a warmth pouring into the veins of lyrium on his neck and electricity tingling through his left ear.

He opened his eyes.

The girl withdrew her hand slowly and stared into his eyes.

„Where is she?" she whispered.

Motionless, he looked back. He felt afraid that his answer will scare or disgust her, but then he remembered the contempt and blind fury he felt for the bard – inexplicable as it seemed to him – and his eyes hardened.

„Dead." There wasn't a shred of feeling in his voice.

She didn't look scared or disgusted. She looked like she already knew.

„How many is that? Six?"

His gaze softened.

„Twelve, princess."

Again, that barely visible wince.

„Did I pay you enough to kill so many in just three days?"

„You do not have to pay me at all." There was something finite in his voice.

„But if I don't pay you..."

„If you do pay me, someone else can pay me more. But if you do not, I am doing this by choice. No one can pay me to abandon what I chose."

She looked at him, softly, gratefully, thoughtfully.

„What's your name, my elven hero?"

He didn't answer right away, and when he did, his voice was deep and quiet.

„My name is Leto, but it is not who I am. People call me Fenris, but it does not bring happy memories. You may call me whatever you wish."

She thought on it for a while.

„Leto," she said then, „will you give me a name, please? I don't have one."

His lips curved into a faint smile as he looked at her.

„You are right. I cannot keep calling you princess."

Wince.

„Why not?"

„Because by the way you react to it, someone called you that and it did not make you happy."

He thought for a while.

„Would you be insulted by a name in elvish?"

Her eyes came alive.

„No! I... I would be honored."

„Da'mi Revas, then. A free little blade. Because that is what you will be."

She smiled at him.

„Thank you."

He sat up.

„We should move, before someone picks up our track. Pack your things and eat, Da'mi. It will be a long ride."

* * *

It felt strangely uncomfortable, riding through the gap between the raging Waking Sea and the ominous Planasene Forest, along the strip of land barely fifty yards wide. Fenris stayed very alert, barely talking, constantly checking the horizon behind and in front of them. The girl kept quiet too, uneasy and hurting from the long ride, and by the evening, as the sky cleared and the sun set behind them, she was exhausted and close to falling asleep in the saddle.

Fenris noticed, grabbed her horse's reins and stopped.

„You need to sleep."

She turned her weary eyes to him.

„Yes. But you think we have to ride on, don't you?"

„Hmmm." He looked around them. „This is not the best place to rest. We should try and reach the delta as soon as possible. If we encounter anyone here, there is just one place to hide – and I would really wish to avoid that."

They both looked at the darkness beneath the gigantic trees. Yes, she thought, they should avoid it. She knew she will have nightmares about that forest if they got any closer to it. It seemed to look back at them and breathe a threatening gust of air in their direction.

Fenris wrapped a cloak around her a reached out his arms.

„I will carry you, you can sleep. We need to cover half the distance to Kirkwall before we rest."

She climbed into his arms, rested her head against his armor and closed her eyes.

He made sure he didn't touch her skin anywhere and that the cloak kept her warm, then he tied her horse to his saddle and spurred the stallion onwards.

There was trouble ahead, he could feel it in his bones.


	13. Chapter 13

_I humbly apologize for the delay, I had to break a writer's stalemate in my head, but it's all ready now. However, I will keep this chapter brief, as it carries the unlucky number (and as I am tired and barely able to keep the letters in their proper places)._

_I promise the next chapter will be longer and available very soon after this one. I only have to reread it._

_Well then... let us go meet an old friend;)_

* * *

Strangely enough, the only trouble ahead was the fact that the girl caught a nasty cold and sneezed and sniffled all of the next day, as they rode on under the overcast skies. The sea was gray and roared on the shore, driven by a strong southern wind. He worried slightly, especially as she started squirming in the saddle and sighing – she must have been aching from the long ride. But he kept the horses in a sharp trot and their discomfort was rewarded as they crossed the Kirkwall delta at sunset and saw the cliffs marking the edges of the city.

Fenris had no intention of bringing more attention to them than necessary. They left the horses at a small farm near the river, where the farmer – after he let some silver slip his way – agreed to look after the animals until they came back.

From there, he led a weary sniffling Da'mi to where he remembered the entrance to Smuggler's Cut, the underground passage into Kirkwall's Darktown.

„Draw you blade and stay behind me, these caves were never safe," he told her as they entered the dank tunnel. She proudly unsheathed her dagger and followed his blue-flickering silhouette into the darkness.

* * *

By the time they found their way into the sewers and up a slippery ladder, Fenris was getting extremely suspicious. Everything seemed quiet and safe, which was not how he remembered these parts. Carefully, he led her through the streets. There were less people and more stench. The war was most likely clearing out Darktown with hunger and violence.

A boy was sitting in a corner, eying them with bright eyes. He didn't seem as starved and something told Fenris this might be a safe guess. He flipped a coin in the boys direction.

„Do you know where to find Varric Tethras, boy?"

The urchin nodded.

„Go and tell him I need to speak to him. Tell him an old friend needs help."

* * *

„I had no idea the Hanged Man had a cellar."

„And I had no idea you still wore that girly haircut, elf."

„Varric."

They clasped hands. The underground rooms were quite pleasantly furnished, mostly with things from Varric's old rooms on the first floor, and it breathed a homely atmosphere even after all that time.

„It's good to see you, elf," the dwarf greeted him in a deep, sincere voice. His gaze switched to Da'mi, who was shifting uneasily from foot to foot at the door.

„And who is this lovely paranoid young lady traveling with you?" He walked a few steps towards her, welcoming had extended. „You can put away that blade, girl, no one's going to hurt you in here."

She quickly looked at Fenris, who nodded slightly, half a smile on his lips. She sheathed the dagger.

„Varric, allow me to present Da'mi Revas, a woman of many mysteries, currently under my protection."

The dwarf whistled. „You're very lucky, my lady, you could hardly wish for a finer swordsman to guard you."

The girl smiled almost proudly, her uneasiness momentarily gone. „I know that."

There was such warmth in her voice that it caught Fenris off guard and he looked at her with astonishment.

„Well, I see she already had the exquisite pleasure of seeing you kill someone," murmured the dwarf in Fenris' direction, amused. He quickly turned back. „Varric Tethras at your service, my lady. Please, sit down and make yourself comfortable. I ordered wine and a warm dinner, which I'm sure you both need badly."

They took their seats, Varric at the head of the table and Fenris to his right, with a good view of the door. Da'mi settled on the bench next to him and once dinner was brought by the chatty barmaid, she focused solely on the delicious juicy meat on her plate.


	14. Chapter 14

_I sincerely hope this chapter was worth the wait - thank you all for your patience and continued interest;)_

* * *

„I need your help, Varric," the elf spoke out as soon as the door closed behind the maid.

The dwarf chuckled. „So I imagine. I doubt you'd return to this nightmare ridden wreck of a city just to chat." He drank deeply from his cup. „How may I be of service? I assume it has to do with you new friend."

For the first time in days, Fenris let all the suppressed turmoil and confusion show on his face.

"She is hunted. But it does not make any sense. It seems she is hunted by absolutely everyone. Mages want her. Tevinter assassins want her. The Seekers want her. She..."

"The Seekers?" Varric interrupted, "You may have brought her to the wrong place, elf. Kirkwall is crawling with Seekers right now. I had a very close encounter with them myself."

Fenris tensed. "When?"

"A mere two days ago, in fact. With the mighty Cassandra Pentaghast no less. She dragged me off to ask a lo-o-ot of questions."

"Questions?" Fenris breathed out. He felt a long buried anxiety resurfacing. "What did they want?"

The dwarf studied him and the girl with his bright, sharp eyes.

"What do you think they want? With Kirkwall in complete chaos for over a year now, with disasters spreading like fire throughout Thedas and a war condensing from the unrest everywhere?"

He took a pause and held Fenris' eyes, which suddenly filled with realization – and anger.

"They want Hawke," he concluded softly.

* * *

Into the resulting silence, the girl's inquisitive voice asked: "Who's Hawke?"

Fenris looked at her. All the memories, anguish, love and fury came boiling back through the hazy past and became suddenly very sharp, bright and present.

He felt the blue glow stream across his skin. The girl's eyes widened.

Varric put a hand on the elf's shoulder.

"Hawke is a very exceptional woman, Da'mi. She means to us – and to Kirkwall, and to the rest of the world – more than you can imagine."

She kept staring into Fenris' flaming green eyes until he turned away.

"What did you tell them?" he growled.

The dwarf shrugged.

"I told them her story. All of it. And I told them I have no idea where she is."

"And is that true?"

There was a moment of silence.

"It was." He paused. "Until yesterday. She came to see me."

The elf's face didn't move, but his muscles tensed even more.

"Alone?" It was almost unbelievable, but his voice shook – very slightly.

"Yes." Varric shrugged. "She's in over her head. Blondie's losing it."

"I though he lost it a long time ago," growled Fenris angrily.

Varric chuckled unhappily.

"Yes, well, apparently he was still relatively sane back then. Frankly, I think she came to see me just to be away from him for a while. She asked for news, but she didn't even care when I told her the Seekers are looking for her. They just came back from some horrible mess in Starkhaven – Blondie and a group of mages attacked the templars there, they were outnumbered three to one, and she barely saved him. She wants to rest in the mountains for a time."

"And she still won't leave him." The elf stated that, this time stone cold and emotionless.

The dwarf slowly shook his head.

* * *

She was listening to the conversation – and noticing Fenris' reactions – with growing anxiety. There was a lot of information coming her way and none of it was complete. She wasn't used to knowing things – suddenly the emptiness of her mind was swirling with thoughts and images and she had to work hard to keep everything clear.

Then she felt it.

That fear that had been put to sleep by the elf's presence a few days ago.

The firm realization that she is being hunted.

Now.

She jumped up from the table and her eyes shot towards the door just as it moved an inch open.

Varric and Fenris reacted fast. Out of nowhere, there was a deadly looking crossbow in the dwarf's hands. The elf drew his sword in one fluent movement and at the same time kicked the table over as a barrier between her and the door.

"Get down!" he called.

The door was suddenly gaping open into the darkness of the stairwell beyond it – but the first black-clad assassin was crumbling to the ground with a red-feathered bolt in his throat the instant he appeared.

She fell to the ground willingly and crouched against the thick wooden planks of the table. The elf disappeared from her sight and only the melodic swish of his blade reassured her he was still there. The dwarf was right beside her, his crossbow rested on the edge of the table, and the loud decisive clicking of bolts leaving the groove became a sound she cherished – it made her feel safe.

Yet it was over in seconds.

There was a thud as Fenris shut and bolted the door. Varric slowly stood up.

"Well... it looks like you weren't kidding. She really is seriously hunted."

Carefully she peeked over the edge.

"Why do they always come in fives?" she asked shyly as she counted the bodies.

"Two for the first charge, two for backup, one as a surprise element," answered Fenris absently as he searched the bodies. He straightened and shook his head. "Nothing."

"You make me wonder," Varric spoke slowly, "why the Seekers begin looking for Hawke right about the same time you two come by. You make me wonder whether there is something going on that slipped my attention – unlikely as that is."

The elf looked at him.

"The bard that was meant to deliver her to the Seekers spoke of a ritual somewhere in the Silents. Most likely a Tevinter ritual."

"Wait... Hawke mentioned that Blondie was raving about some kind of 'new element' emerging in the north. I didn't ask her for the details, though."

The elf watched him, an inner struggle clearly visible in his eyes. Then he turned their back to them, head bowed, and after a long time, he finally spoke.

"We should go see Hawke, then. Anything that sheds some light onto this is welcome."

Varric sighed, then helped the girl stand up.

"Come on, then. Like any decent abode worthy of a Tethras, this room has an escape route. We better leave before more of your friends come a-knocking."

She eyed him suspiciously.

"I... don't think they'd knock."

He chuckled.

"Neither do I, girl."

Fenris turned to him.

"You don't have to get dragged into this, Varric. It will be dangerous. We have no idea how deep this cocoon of madness goes."

"Does this look like a story I want to miss out on, elf? Don't be ridiculous. Of course I'm coming. I will help you find Hawke, if nothing else."

He wandered off into a corner to pack.

"Come on, girl. Gather your things – and your elf – and let's go."


	15. Chapter 15

They climbed down through the concealed shaft at the back of the cellar and walked the dark stretches of a tunnel, which conveniently led to a deserted wharf at the far end of the docks. It was dark and restless sounds echoed down from the sinister outlines of the city.

Varric left them waiting in the tunnel opening and disappeared into the shadows outside to make sure the streets were clear. They sat on the cold stone and listened to water dripping somewhere deeper underground.

Da'mi turned to Fenris hesitantly.

"Why did you choose to help me?" she asked in that honest voice that couldn't be denied an answer.

His head, resting wearily against the damp stone wall, turned to her.

"I hope you are not complaining," he said.

"No! No... of course not. But... at first I paid you, but then, you have enough gold yourself. Then you didn't even want me to pay you anymore. I understand – you told me – it was because you chose to help me. But why?"

He looked away again, and his voice was again that muffled, distant thunder that made her squirm a bit.

"Because you needed help – and running, hiding and fighting is what I know best."

He remained silent for a while and then added quietly: "It is, in fact, all I know."

She felt it wasn't true, at least not entirely, but he looked so tired and lost in unpleasant thoughts that she didn't press him for it.

* * *

She was right, it wasn't pleasant thoughts coursing through his brain.

He attempted to put his past behind when he left a year ago, but deep inside he knew anything short of killing everyone involved in it – as he did with his more distant past – will not work.

He remembered all the teeth grinding as he watched the beautiful, kind, always joking Hawke slip between his fingers. He used to hate himself for leaving her when she asked him to stay with her – until his hatred was dulled by time into a bitter, ever present aching. He remembered how the firelight was dancing on her skin as she watched him go, her eyes sad, the blankets draw around her slender form as if for protection. She needed someone, of course she needed someone. She couldn't have stayed alone with all she had to face.

And so it was that for the rest of the time they spent together in Kirkwall, he suffered as he watched her being drawn into the mage's crazy schemes. She was falling into Anders' maelstrom of tragedy and he followed, out of blind loyalty, only a step behind, disregarding the agony it caused him. Maybe he felt there was a debt to be repaid – and of course there was – but there must have been more.

He wasn't used to being free and so he anchored himself to her, hoping blindly she will lead him out of the sudden dusk that enveloped all of their lives.

She didn't, and she eventually severed his chains and he left, groping around in the sudden emptiness.

Until he met that scared girl at the inn in the forests at the Orlesian border and felt he had something to offer her. But at the same time he knew Da'mi wasn't just a substitute for the center point Hawke was to him. Da'mi gave him a purpose that seemed to be more his own than anything Hawke ever brought him.

"I chose to help you because you are a tiny bright light in this descending darkness and I will not see it go out," he spoke suddenly, a fierce tone sounding through his weariness.

She looked at him, and smiled like a child, and lightly touched her hand to the hair above his ear.

"Thank you," she simply said.

* * *

_Well, I hope you're all ready to meet a couple more old friends;)_


	16. Chapter 16

_I'm leaving for a summer job at my sister's farm and have no idea how much time I will have to write - during July, I probably won't be able to keep the updates coming within that promised three-day limit, especially as the story becomes more tangled and it takes a lot more thought to compose. So please be patient and never fear - the disasters in Thedas never go away of their own accord;)_

_I'm also beginning to see the influence of another fanfic writer in my writing style, although the story is very different - but by way of influence, I could do a lot worse;) I hope Wintryone doesn't mind when and if reading this and takes it as a compliment._

_Enough chatting, then. Meet..._

* * *

Hawke was exhausted.

She has been exhausted for some time now and it seemed she even lost her ability to rest. Even now when she actually had time to sleep, she lay on her worn bedroll – which did little to disguise the hard cold stone beneath it – unable to bring her muscles to relax.

Her mind was even further from relaxing than her body.

After an hour of tossing about, she sat up, resigned, and rubbed some of the weariness from her eyes.

She looked towards the exit of the cave.

The hunched form of a sitting man hasn't moved since their last argument that evening, stubbornly silent. He had wanted to go back to the city to persuade Varric to join them – he had been furious when she told him she didn't even ask him. She was reluctant to do so, knowing that the dwarf's presence, however comforting it would have been to her, would inevitably clash with the violent manifestations of Justice and trying to keep peace between them – or rather preventing Justice from trying to kill the dwarf in one of his irrational outbursts of rage – would have exhausted her even further.

She still called the spirit Justice in her head, and bitterly smiled at the realization. It had long ago become pure Vengeance, spiteful and ruthless and so hard to bear...

She let out a heavy sigh before she could bring herself to speak.

"Anders, come to bed, please." She was surprised at the desperate plea that rang in her hoarse voice without her even trying.

She was even more surprised when he reacted, half turning his head co that she could see his elegant profile. His features were, for once, relaxed – albeit sad – and his eyes unglowing and his own.

It took a while, but he eventually stood and walked to where she was crouched on the floor, sitting down beside her, putting his arms around her and drawing her to him. With a measure of relief, she rested her head against his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, love," he whispered. His hand rose to her cheek and he entangled his long slender fingers in her silvery pale hair. "He's getting so strong I don't even know who I am anymore."

She knew that. But she has also come to cherish these moments more than she ever thought possible, appreciating achingly every moment Anders was actually Anders, loving and real – even if agonized and in constant turmoil. The stronger the spirit inside him grew, the bigger the gap between it and the mage became as Anders struggled to separate himself from the spirit. During these rare moments she could read in his eyes how he despised coming closer and closer to being fully possessed.

She drew back to look at him, and ran the tips of her fingers over his eyebrows, cheekbones and lips, savoring their shape.

She knew that whatever happened, she will not leave this man as long as there was even a tiny flicker of that boyish humor, flirting charm and passionate love, all so rare and out of place in the troubled darkness that had been her life.

He closed his eyes under her touch, clearly enjoying the moment, and then the corner of his mouth twitched. He lifted his hand and she turned in astonishment as a light opalescent barrier descended over the entrance to the cave.

Usually, Justice frowned upon the careless use of magic for one's own comfort.

She realized, with something dangerously close to glee, that Justice isn't there.

"Well, as long as I'm actually here for once..." Anders murmured meaningfully and in his tired eyes sparkled some of the old charm.

With delight, she sunk to the ground in his embrace, giving herself up to the exquisite touch of his tender hands.

In the back of her mind, she knew that any of these wonderful moments could be last.

* * *

They camped far enough from Kirkwall for Da'mi not to have to stifle every sneeze fearfully, at the foot of the first hill rising up steeper and steeper to eventually turn into the first peaks of the Vinmark Mountains. A few lights flickered in the country below, marking the positions of some of the restless farmholds trying to guard themselves against all the possible dangers of a continent gradually slipping into a full-blown war.

Varric took the first watch, arguing he was well rested compared to them, and the elf and the girl lay down without objection, side by side, both feeling strangely calm after their brief conversation down in the mouth of the sewer tunnel.

They were asleep in a matter of minutes, and the dwarf watched them for a while until, with a chuckle, he turned away and shook his head.

"Well I'll be damned," he whispered.

He would never have believed that he'll live to see the hard and deeply bitter elven fighter taking care of a defenseless girl.

It was a sight worth all the trouble so far.


	17. Chapter 17

_I finally found the time to type a bit down:) Enjoy! and thank you for your patience._

* * *

By late afternoon the next day, they were already high up in the mountains, but looking back they still could see the Kirkwall palace in the distance like a miniature on the cliffs. The air was getting more chilling and the girl's sneezes more frequent, which caused the dwarf to chuckle and the girl to giggle, but Fenris was looking at her with worry.

"Take it easy, elf, it's just a cold," Varric told him lightly, but to no effect. Fenris had no idea who or what the girl actually was, but he doubted even a common cold will have the same effect on her as on ordinary humans.

The steep, barely discernible path wound around a large outcropping of rock and crossed a stream and as they made the turn, they stopped suddenly.

The stream fell from a ledge some twenty feet higher. Right above the ledge, there was a dark entrance to a cave. Just as they came in sight, flashes of blue, white and reddish light started erupting from the shadows inside, and a male voice came thundering from within – the words were interrupted by the crackling of magic and couldn't be understood.

Fenris drew his sword, his face a mask of stone, but the dwarf only stood there, very still and seemingly a little sad.

"What is that?" asked Da'mi in a whisper.

Varric watched the dancing lights and shook his head.

"Well, girl, to me, it sounds like two mages arguing. Big time."

* * *

Hawke drew up a shield around herself as soon as his eyes began to glow.

They used to be a pure glowing blue – she still remembered the first time she saw the color and the light of the spirit shining through his eyes and she remembered she had thought it beautiful. With time, however, the bright blue slowly, stealthily phased and changed.

Now, as she watched him, his eyes were a searing purple like those of a demon.

"You have no right to tell me what I can't do! I can and I will do anything to stop them! Every last one of them will pay!"

"Anders, please! Your cause is just – or was just – but you're becoming reckless. You knew Sebastian was waiting for you, with the templars, the lives of those mages were lost because of you. _Your _life was almost lost. You have to know that! Maker... how can you not see that! Vengeance needs to be reined in, otherwise it will destroy itself!"

"NO ONE will destroy me!" The resonance of his voice warned her – it was sounding from the Fade now, all of it, and there was not a shred of reason left. She had to do something fast.

_Or he will turn into an abomination right there in front of her eyes and there will be nothing she can do, ever again._

Her worst nightmare – for so long now.

"Anders, I stand with you, you know that. I will do my best to help you. But for that, you _need_ to stay alive."

"I will do all that is necessary! I will _not_ be slowed down!"

That set her off and she felt she is losing control of her so long controlled pain and anger.

"Well," she hissed, "if I am just slowing you down, demon, maybe you would be better off without me. Just mark my words – without me, you'd be DEAD! Several times over!"

There were a few seconds of dead silence.

And then, into that horrifying, pregnant silence, which threatened to shatter into something disastrous...

… somebody sneezed.

* * *

In a fraction of a second, several things happened.

Hawke spun around to face the entrance to the cave, where three figures were standing suddenly, and her protective shield dimmed as her concentration was overwhelmed by surprise.

Fenris tensed and the tip of his sword shot up to point at Anders' throat.

Varric raised a hand to grab the girl and push her back into cover, but was too slow.

Da'mi took a step forward, as if drawn towards the mage.

Anders' body moved in accord with the magic that instinctively gathered around his hands and shot in a deadly violet flash at the girl.

A strike not controlled by a human mind, a strike not controlled by any sentient will.

A strike to kill.

* * *

Fenris didn't remembered whether he shouted or screamed or was mute with horror. He only remembered being paralyzed by the sheer speed of what was happening and by his own helplessness. It was a feeling so similar to those experienced in his nightmarish dreams that, for a second, he doubted he is even awake.

He watched the magic flow and twist through the air, shaking the fabric of reality around them.

Then, as it was about to connect with the fragile silhouette of Da'mi's body, it changed.

The violet color seemed to disintegrate, to crumble, and the patterns of magic became a grainy structure of red and blue and then white, becoming transparent until all that was left were shivers in the air that soaked right into the girl's skin without a trace.

Da'mi stood there and watched, perplexed, as Anders' face twisted as if in pain and his eyes squeezed shut.

When they opened again, there was no unnatural demonic light in them – they were his own amber gold, confused and in shock. He fell to his knees and crouched on the floor, groaning.

Hawke let the shield drop completely and rushed to him, grabbing his shoulders. She turned his face to her and searched his eyes with fear, her hands pressed to the sides of his head.

He stared back.

"What was that?" he whispered. She only shook her head. "I don't know," she whispered back and turned to the three visitors.

"Varric..." she breathed, and her eyes traveled over to the elf. "Fenris!" she exclaimed and jumped up, quickly putting herself between the elf and her man. "What... who _is_ this?"

Da'mi stood still, looking at the beautiful, tired woman in front of her.

Her fingers, feet and the tip of her nose were tingling and she felt an irresistible urge to sneeze again.


End file.
